


His Scruffy Love

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Find It Fix It Flog It RPF
Genre: First Time, Flirting, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Teasing, Touching, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 16:59:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18077390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: Inspired by a comment I saw on the Find It, Fix It, Flog It Facebook page where someone was praising the show but complaining that Simon and Henry were too scruffy and looked like they were both homeless - which is a bit harsh, methinks. But anyway, in my fic, Henry has a good old moan to Simon about it and tries to prove that he's actually quite well-groomed."Besides - they must have been talking about you," Si accused, "I always look well turned out  - you're the scruffy one, Cole.""Is that right?" he challenged. "I'll have you know that I manscape!""I don't want to know," O'Brien laughed."Well, I trim my beard, anyway!"





	His Scruffy Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liadt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liadt/gifts).



> This is a present for Liadt, who I know has been a bit fed up lately <3 And I know that she loves Henry just EXACTLY as he is - be it scruffy or otherwise ;-)
> 
> *~*~*~*
> 
> Please note that this is a work of fiction involving real people written by myself - it is a completely made-up fantasy and is in no way intended to cause offence.

"The cheeky buggers," Henry said, shaking his head as he waded through the odds and sods in a large pile of what seemed to be junk, "The _things_ they say."

"I know," came the reply, though Simon was alarmed to actually see Henry _offended_ by it. It was true that the general public could be cruel, but most of the feedback they had received for the show had been overwhelmingly positive - the concept of 'upcycling' was very much of the moment, and people mostly enjoyed seeing their take on what could be done to improve the various different items they happened upon whilst rummaging through sheds - even if some _didn't_.

"I think I might come off social media altogether," Cole mused.

"You?" exclaimed the younger host. "I'll believe it when I see it! You're glued to that phone - you're even wearing touch-screen gloves right now."

Henry looked down at his hands; "Fair enough," he thought - he couldn't hide it. But being able to use his smart-phone whilst wearing his gloves only made the situation worse, for he was able to whip out the offending device and look at the Facebook comment yet again. Si watched on as he swiped at the glass a few times before thrusting it in his face. "Have you seen what it says?" he accosted the ardently nodding Simon. "It says we look like a couple of homeless people and that we should smarten up a bit more! Are we supposed to be dressed in tuxedos while we're sifting through people's crap?"

"Just ignore them," Si rolled his eyes at him as he looked up from what he was currently examining - a handful of wood offcuts, but sadly they were too far gone - too full of woodworm holes to be much use for anything. "Besides - they must have been talking about _you_ ," he accused, "I always look well turned out (today, he was wearing a nice floral shirt with a lovely taupe pullover) - _you're_ the scruffy one, Cole."

"Is that right?" he challenged. "I'll have you know that I _manscape!_ "

"I don't want to know," O'Brien laughed.

"Well, I trim my beard, anyway!"

"With a blunt knife," Si added.

He sat back and threw off his large worker's gloves; he was spending more time looking at Henry now than he was looking at the potential barn-finds. It didn't matter how _bleak_ the offerings in a particular shed were seeming, and it didn't matter how negative the topic was - Henry _always_ managed to make Simon smile, through the hard times. It had been a long old day, and they hadn't even found a single item - and the _last_ thing they needed to hear from viewers was how they looked like pair of tramps when they were trawling through such endless garbage. The programme only showed the _bounty_ of their search: the tired yet beautiful furnishings; 'nanna chic' wicker items and gorgeous G-Plan; vintage motorbikes needing hardly any work; the very _best_ of Henry's petrol cans. There was so much _more_ that they had to clamber through to get there, from mountains of mouldy old cardboard to the quintessential bonfire fodder.

"And I moisturise my chest," Henry declared, triumphantly; he unzipped his hooded top and began to undo the first so-many buttons on his shirt, displaying a bare chest to his colleague. "Come and have a feel. Come on, son - it's waiting."

The ex-Brookside star chuckled, and then tried to stifle the giggle, not wanting his laughter to come across so high-pitched and giddy. He didn't want Henry to know that such a proposition made his heart flutter, but he couldn't deny it to himself that it _did_. The pair had been friends - good friends - for some time now - and he'd always found Cole to be both charming and handsome, but he'd never let it interfere with their work and their on-screen relationship as co-presenters. However, right now when there were no cameras present and Henry seemed to be leading Simon on, the sudden tension which had befallen this rickety old wooden shack - which barely seemed to be standing and one strong gust of wind could knock it flat - was palpable. Si smiled again, more shyly now, and began to move forward.

"Do--," he began, stammering. "Do you _really_ moisturise your chest, Henry?" he asked him, rough hands raking over a much smoother surface, slightly less tanned than his forearms and dotted with almost the same amount of fair, blonde fuzz - Simon taking in the _feel_ of Henry and all of his contours - a well looked-after body for a man in his fifties; an all-too _attractive_ man in his fifties, who was allowing Si to handle him in such an _intimate_ way.

"Nah, mate - I just wanted your hands all over me," Henry grinned, mischievously.

" _You_ don't mince your _words_!" Si retorted.

"It's like tourettes," there came a laugh, "It just comes out, son. I can't help it if I'm madly attracted to you."

The Liverpudlian snorted with amusement and his head flopped forward, onto his partner's chest. It was a double whammy now for Henry; he'd wanted Simon's hands all over him and now he had his head also nestling into the crook of his neck, the short-shaven silver hairs tickling him and making him shiver - Si's little quiff like cotton wool, gentle and feather-like as it bounced over his skin. Henry huffed with approval. It certainly had been a long old day, and this was _certainly_ livening it up somewhat. Somewhat _indeed_.

"You didn't have trick me into touching you - I would have done it anyway," Si smiled, seductively, as he rolled his fingers - slightly nervously - further down Henry's chest, before undoing the rest of the buttons so he could finally sample _all_ of it.

"It wasn't a trick as _such_ ," Cole beamed, "My shower gel does have moisturiser _in_ it."

O'Brien moved in to press his face to the other man's now completely undressed upper half, inhaling the scent of his chest, and being pleasantly surprised to smell not only motorcycles and oil, but also cedarwood and citrus - a combination of scents which was making Simon ravenous. He glanced up to meet with Henry's gaze - just enough to claim his interest - before his eyelashes sensually flickered downwards, hinting at what was next; he combed through the pubic fur sprouting above his lover's waistband and tugged fervently at his belt.

"To-- To think..." the bearded man stuttered, "... I was cold when I left the house this morning." He could feel a flush working its way up from where Simon's hands were presently working on his belt and the fly of his jeans - all the way up his torso, his neck and to his face, turning his ears a bright shade of pinkish red. Given the circumstances, it came as no surprise to Henry that, when Si had reached his underwear, he was already hard and forcing his way out of his boxers.

Simon loosely slid his hand, painfully slowly, over the erect penis once, making Henry sharply gasp.

"No," Cole told him - and O'Brien's eyes widened in surprise. "Let's do it together." Henry was anything but selfish, and he wanted Simon to know it. Si's eyes could only widen further when Henry pulled him forward by his taupe pullover (which was, as was previously stated, one of his _best_ \- thank you very much, Henry Cole) and hauled him into a kiss which both of them were _powerless_ to do anything about - they were thirstier than two men lost in the desert, and twice as desperate for one another's touch. The Shed and Buried presenter's hands were knotted in the fabric of his cotton jumper, dragging him almost off the ground, to make up the two-or-so inch difference in height - and Simon _gladly_ let himself be held aloft - in fact, he wasn't sure if he was floating _off_ the ground.

By the time Si had felt Henry's hungry tongue slip from his mouth, he had barely even noticed that his own jeans had been undone and a hand was snaking into his boxer shorts. They now had a hand around each other's arousal, and neither of the pair were sure where to put their eyes at that moment - _entranced_ by what was at eye-level - their shared wowed expressions and reactions of _sheer_ pleasure - and equally _curious_ as to what was occurring below, the sight of their hands frantically fisting over their cocks. Henry had been hard for what seemed like forever and, not long into their session, he came all over Simon's hand, with a muffled cry into Si's shoulder.

"Si... Si..." he moaned into his co-host's ear, and the heat of his whisper, low and thick, was bringing the younger man ever-closer to completion. That, along with the sensation of Henry's facial hair scraping against the sensitivity of his neck and jawline, was _all_ that it would take in the end; he couldn't give much of a warning, and so Henry simply kept on jerking Simon's cock, grasping at the shaft, running a thumb over the head, until the whole thing exploded - ejaculate landing _everywhere_ from Cole's torn jeans to his still bare chest, and he recoiled slightly in shock as the surprisingly warm fluid came into contact with his cool, exposed flesh. It was _messy_.

"You're all scruffy now..." Si panted, regaining his breath, "But I don't mind at all."

"Yeah, but what would the viewers think?" Henry queried, with a smirk, "We've already established that they don't like seeing us _scruffy_."

" _No-one_ else is seeing you like _this_." Simon simply wouldn't allow for _anyone_ to see _his_ Henry like this - half-undressed and hanging out, clothes pulled off and his body splashed with his partner's seed; Si had _marked_ him, like an animal branding its territory - he wanted Henry for himself. And searching through sheds for upcycles - be it boring or unfruitful - be it exciting and chock-full of promise - would never _ever_ be the same again. "You're all _mine_ , Cole," he smiled, wickedly, before dragging him in for another, _messy_ , kiss.


End file.
